Best of Both Worlds
by Dark and Chaotic
Summary: Born mundane and thrown into a world of magic, 4 people must fight to survive the duality of the strange fictional world they now seem to be part of. With secrets and conspiracies at every turn, Fia, MJ, Hatorri and Leopold realise that to survive they must be just as ruthless as the world around them. A revolution begins as they take the best of both worlds.


**Best of Both Worlds**

A

Harry Potter Fanfiction

By

_Dark and Chaotic_

_**Prologue**_

_An Introduction to a party of Four_

What does it mean to be human? It is an age old question that had many generations of philosophers staggered. Was it humane to give alms to the poor? Or is it in human nature to take whatever there was for the taking just because one wants it? When one says human do they refer to the religiously sanctified mythical entity that is the soul we all supposedly possess? Does humanity define itself with sin? What makes us that different from animals? Are we really any different at all? Are we better than them for what we have and they lack? Have we really conquered nature?

The life of an animal is simple, if harsh and unfairly short. A bird would die, frozen and hungry on a branch in winter but it would not have felt pity in its curt and miserable life. A man would gladly die for his ideals, but do those ideals carry any real worth? Is anything really worth dying for? Does the death of the man carry more value than the death of the little bird? Can death even be measured in any way? Sooner or later anything can come to an abrupt end by the hand of the one true force of nature- time.

Time was an interesting concept by itself. It brought change and everyone and everything had to accost to it. It wasn't, however, as nontangible and irreversible as many believed for so long. Provided one had the speed and energy, it was theoretically possible to even go back in time. The force of gravity was capable of disrupting the flow of time, as long as it met certain requirements. Requirements that only a black hole had.

One could spend hours delving into the amazing fountain of science that was physics. But as everything else in existence, time was also_ subject _to subjective perception. One never had enough of it when they were having fun or were in a hurry and it was always there in ridiculous abundance especially when one was deathly bored.

Fiona Johnson, a young, lively girl of seventeen, was as deathly bored as one could get, and had tried everything in her mental arsenal to keep herself occupied, in lieu of her current situation, of course. After mindlessly staring into the white ceiling of her hospital room, she had resorted to using philosophy, religion, Darwinism, and even to scientific a capella brainstorming solo performance. Where humans were prone to subjectiveness, reality often used its staunch but swift hammer of raw, unadulterated fact. It was a fact that she had three more days of this boredom torture before the doctors would release her and there was no way she could twist her time in order to make it seem less than it was. In other words, she was bereft of her usual forms of entertainment. Fia had already spent 10 agonizingly slow and boring days, practically shackled to her hospital bed. She had three more days of this horror and then she'd get a nice big bucket of ice-cream and several boxes of cookies to recuperate from this experience. It was a sad but true fact that all things she deemed interesting (and therefore entertaining) also met the doctors' definition for stressful and therefore potentially dangerous for her current state. Usually, Fia would be the last person to admit she might be wrong about something. On days one through four she had valiantly declared that playing video games on her self-customized laptop (named The Bible) would not have detrimental effect on her health. Screw all the facts that claimed otherwise. However, Belgian doctors happened to be incredibly resilient to any form of extortion she could come up with in her situation. In the end, on day five, she had finally decided that it was high time to suck it up and fess up to herself the one true fact. No one messed with the Belgians. In fact, she was so forthcoming with that confession to herself that she had even decided to never, EVER, do anything even remotely mischievous on Belgian soil. Not even cow tipping, no matter how tempting it sounded.

She had to give it to them though. To the Belgians. They had fared spectacularly well with her presence. Compared to other geographical regions that is. In the days when she still lived in Brooklyn, she had accumulated a rather useless, but still somehow awesome in her eyes, record. She had managed to go through all the best shrinks that New York could offer. And all before she was even fit for elementary school. The verdict? A prodigy with an idle mind and visions of grandeur at some point in her future. Maybe her mom should've let her watch the kiddie channel instead of CNN all the time. But as the saying goes, an idle mind was the devil's playground. And she had been a creative little mongrel well before she could even walk and had an opinion about the political situation in the US at age four, though she fully blamed her mother's obsession with CNN and generally any kind of political news. If her mother ever had the fancy, she would've been quite the political savvy. But then they had moved from Brooklyn to Paris and all things political had been pushed to the far back in favour of her career as a businesswoman. Ah, but she was getting off-topic again.

Fia sighed not for the first and definitely not for the last time that day. Of all the things she did not want to think of, but constantly came up in her mind, was the inevitable hair-cut she was going to get as soon as her stitches were removed. The reason she had ended up in this absurdly redundant situation was more than obvious for those who knew her well enough. She had managed to crack her skull and, according to her doctor, they had to remove a small piece of metal scrap that had nearly imbedded itself in her brain. Apparently, she had been lucky to be alive, and, also apparently, she had been the person with the most severe injuries from the _accident_. Apparently a milk man had suffered a broken wrist and a pregnant woman had given birth. A few people with minor bruises and that was it.

It wasn't as if Fia wanted to hurt people. Now that would be just pointless sadism. And as much as everyone appreciated a joke on someone else's back, the point of this …let's call it an _experiment…_was to see how much power would a few minor and subtle touches do in a limited amount of space. But, of course, that was a fancy-schmancy way to say that she wanted to get her pyro fix (even though she had control over such notions since 5th grade) from a self-styled miniature pipe bomb that used household items as common as baking soda, a wrist watch's mechanisms, lemon juice and some other things that she managed to get on hand. Basically, given the locations of the household explosives, she had managed to accumulate a substantial domino effect that resulted in an unprepared for a rusty boiler malfunctioning.

All in all it had been a successful experiment. There had been chaos and glorious amounts of panic, debris flying all over the place like, and people screaming. And she had been unconscious through it all thanks to a vindictive piece of scrap metal. She would've gotten away with it too, if it weren't for it and those pesky doctors. Even though her motto compelled her to live a life of no regrets, she could hear a small pest of a whisper in the deepest recesses of her mind telling her that those were seventy gallons of perfectly good milk wasted for _the cause_. There was a defined path in her life that repeated itself more often than not. She'd cause chaos and then Karma would generally throw the shit right back at her. She could recall several instances in which she was pretty sure than had she been in a less _abstract_ mood, she would've gone against making those fancies realities. Playing around with her not so basic chemistry set and making various mental _stimulants_ was one such occasion. In hindsight she realized those were probably considered to be _drugs_ by the rest of the world. But things like aspirin and ibuprofen were also drugs, if one wanted to be anal about it.

There had been numerous cases in which her life had been in danger by means of her own doing one way or another. The most notable occasion was the trip to Australia. It had been a hectic first week for her, what with travelling, bargaining with her guild leader from one of the MMO's she was playing, trying to find ways to sneak the baby kangaroo she kept in a glass jar by the Australian customs (and those were probably the worst customs she had encountered so far in her life- the security was ridiculously tight). The occasion had called for the use of said stimulants. The next thing she remembered was waking up in a hospital room, surrounded by family and friends. Despite all the surgeries she had gone through, she still had a few scars across her back and her chest to remind her of that fall-out. Those were the most prominent scars she had, however. The others were barely visible nowadays. There was that thin line scar on the back of her right hand that was a remnant of her fight with a protective mother squirrel when she was 4 and still living in Brooklyn, New York. Then there were the scratch marks from the neighbors' cat on her left forearm. Fia smiled while looking at that one. She had been only 7 at the time, but her sense of smugness over that victory was as fresh as the day she had conquered that beast. It was a vile creature, one that had to be put down for the sake of sanity's sake. It had the nasty habits of peeing in her shoes whenever her parents and she were visiting those particular neighbors. There wasn't a child or teen that would've disagreed with her back then. Monsieur Duvet had disappeared without a trace after the final straw had been drawn. Nowadays his lacquered skull was decorating one of her shelves back at home, with **Subject Five** written ever so lovingly on his forehead.

One would think stripping a body clean of its flesh was a hard and gruesome work, especially for impressionable 7 year olds. But Fiona Johnson hadn't been an ordinary 7 year old. She had done the practical thing and had buried the body. One day, a few years later, she had been watching a documentary on a popular TV station and had an amazing revelation. Not three hours later Monsieur Duvet's shiny starch white skull was drying from the freshly layered colorless varnish. The reason for adorning the black marker text of **Subject Five **on the forehead was because Monsieur Duvet had not been the first animal for her to dig up. Subject One and Three had been, however, long gone. Subject two and four had been mummified from their time in their burial places and thus unfit for getting their skulls. By the time Fia had gotten to Monsieur Duvet's burial spot, she had been about to give up. After all, a ten year old like her had to be at home around 8 o'clock in the evening and it had already been 6:30 at the time. Of Monsieur Duvet's remains, his skull had been remarkably well preserved. She had wanted the entire set of bones, but most were missing. A skull was close enough to her original idea. Since then, she had a pigeon skeleton added to the collection, a garden snake skeleton and a small dog skeleton to her room.

And for the concerned few of the readers- no, her parents did not allow pets in their home and she was not allowed to have any pets what so ever. The bones and skulls were only part of the reason. After all their daughter, a budding prodigy with amazing potential had to be allowed to indulge her scientific interests. Who knows, after all? She might become the world's leading biologist or even a world renowned doctor. It was the preserved animals in jars that crossed the line. Most of them were kept in their own corner in the attic, except her butterfly collection. That one her mother had placed in their reception hall on the first floor of their house. Apparently it impressed their guests or something. Considering the fact her mother was a renowned land shark among European and American Business circles, the butterfly collection probably sent out some kind of message to her partners or something. Fia didn't really care about business and finances.

Her only endeavors in that direction had been the ten dollars she had invested in a small candy store that had gone bankrupt a few years later. It had been a bitter realization that things she considered awesome like that candy store could become the unsuspecting victim of Parisian business entrepreneurs. From that day onwards Fia had never again dabbled with such horrible things like finances and economy.

But returning back on topic. Fia had many small scars that were proof for many of her escapades. There isn't a single mark on her that did not possess history. She told all those stories with pride to those who would listen and not be horrified or appalled in some way. She wondered idly for a few minutes about the newest addition to her scar collection- the one that she was currently nursing in a hospital bed. There was no doubt in her mind that she had to cut off a marginal part of her hair in order to have a somewhat normal appearance. The thought of short hair scared her. It would stick out uncontrollably in all angles. She could just see it right now. Maybe if she dyed her hair some obnoxious color it would look better? Preferably pink, pastel green or some other color that suited her. But definitely not orange. She still remembered how Rose, one of her friends, had faired with that. That woman's rebel years had been the worst case scenario of late blooming she had ever seen. And she respected her for that. She did not know many Harvard Law School Graduate Lawyers with bright orange hair and piercings. Surprisingly enough, that had turned out to be a good move as she was now one of the most successful lawyers right out of Harvard. Not bad for a fifth generation Romano Lawyer. Then again with Rose's complexion and overall appeal she pulled off the short spiky orange hair do rather well. No wonder they called her the Grey Eyed Rebel Queen of Harvard.

But honestly, the possibilities were endless. And her hair grew fast. And she should be thankful that it wasn't, say, an arm or a leg, or even worse- one of her precious bust twins. She tried to be careful, of course. Most of the older scars had faded away with time, with only the most prominent ones still showing. She had quite a few thin scar lines on her feet as well. Both knees also carried various battle memorabilia. It was all for the cause, so there was no need to fret. As long as she doesn't poke out an eye, all will be well. Safety and what not. Then again, Fiona was not known for her exceptionally strong common sense when it came to…safety. Wanton destruction, going overboard, witty banter with fellow prodigy Leopold who also happened to be her Nemesis – those kind of things could be related to her. A flair of grandeur, a maniacal and yet captivating evil laughter, sharp, piercing gaze, a wicked mischievous smile. Those things defined her well.

Fiona Johnson defined herself as a citizen of the world. Her great grandparents had been Austrian. Her grandfather had married a Brazilian woman from whom Fia had inherited her looks, her mother was French and her father had mostly grown up in the Americas. Speaking of family, her father, Jonathan Johnson Jr., had an identical twin brother, Joshua Johnson, who had married an American Asian woman. From there she, Auntie Sarah, had a given birth to a boy – one of Fia's best mates, Hatorri Johnson.

She also had a paternal aunt- Auntie Jasmine, who had married a military man and now Fia had three military brats for cousins, named Albert, Percival and Brian Johnson. Her youngest uncle, and the youngest among Jonathan Johnson Sr.'s children was Jasper Johnson. He had his brown hair styled in dreadlocks to his old man's dismay. He had a pale complexion like his father and also his sharp blue eyes. He was also the person whom the world should blame for Fia's interest in all things computer related.

Fiona's mother, one Jubilation Johnson, was a blonde herself, although nowadays she dyed her hair a lighter shade of blonde, the same as her Father's. Apparently she was worried about graying hair or something of the sort. It was a silly notion to worry about, really. After all, you did not work in a highly stressful environment without expecting there would be consequences such as gray hair appearing early on. Vanity was a peculiar thing, fickle if one willed so. It had taken her mother a week to recuperate after realizing from now on she had to dye her hair in order to hide the gray hairs. Apparently the vanity had been inherited from her maternal grandmother. Her grandfather was a nice enough man, however. He and J.J. Senior had hit it off quite spectacularly after their first hunting party together, back in the day, when mommy and daddy had decided it was high-time to tie the knot. Her maternal grandmother, however, was a person she highly disliked. That was an effeminate way of saying that the old hag irritated the living daylights out of her. Which was also a nice way of saying that she hated her guts and that the world would be a better place without her. However, family was family, and one had to put aside sociopathic tendencies and make nice with even the most atrocious people on the planet for the sake of peace and harmony within the brood.

Apart from family, Fia also had many friends from all around the world. During her many escapades and even during the few times she had accompanied her parents on work trips around the world, she had always manage to scrape a friend or at least an acquaintance with which she kept in touch. In the earlier years of her life friends were a scarce and rare commodity for her. Play dates were a horror movie matter for her- she had bitten many toddlers back in the day, according to her ever-knowing mother. And then, in her cognitive days she still refused to play tea party with the nice girlies of prominent Brooklyn families. Playing doll was ok as long as she was allowed to be Warrior Princess Xena, Mulan, or even anyone of the X-men, with special preference for Deadpool, but that had happened only once, given how rightly frightful was Deadpool's tongue to the young generation of future politicians, lawyers, doctors and Nobel Prize Laureates. After that incident her mother only allowed her to use child friendly transformers. The horrid Sailor Moon Halloween party was not to be mentioned. Ever.

Long story short, Fiona was a difficult child and not many wanted to be friends with her. She always picked fights with boys, made the girls cry or scream (but mostly unintentionally). Her mother had been at wit's end wondering how her lovable little angel had managed to learn any sort of dirty words as she had been kept in an environment of proper society. There is a saying that every child goes through a rebel phase before it grows up. Fiona's mother was convinced that Fia had been born into a rebel phase and for some psychological reason she would never grow out of it.

It had all been hopeless. There was no light in the eyes of Jubilation Johnson, mother of Fiona Johnson until that faithful day they all went on a business trip to London. It had been a faithful day indeed, as her little angel had managed, through some miraculous manner, make friends with a lonely little girl called Michelle. Michelle, whose full name was Michelle Jessica Keats. As in _the Keats Medical Research Facility. _Poor girl had suffered through a lot. With the loss of her brother Rafael Keats, she was now the heir to a hefty inheritance of a prominent medical career oriented family. The girl was such a nice and polite ethereal creature with perfect manners that Jubilation had been almost ecstatic when she had first found out about the budding friendship.

Years later, that same creature had turned from a ballerina princess to a martial arts goddess with a sharp tongue and even sharper wit. And still with impeccable manners. She had jet black straight hair, pale skin and pale blue eyes. She had a somewhat pronounced aversion to staying prolonged amounts of time under direct sunlight and whenever she visited Fia in Paris she would always carry a few pretty embroidered umbrellas just in case it got too sunny. She was a quiet thing but whenever she spoke it was always to the point. Her voice was as soft as a summer rain, but at the same time she could be as acerbic in her refined wording as frostbite. When dealing with Fia, after years of exposure she had learned that the most efficient way to make her stop doing anything was a swift swipe at the back of her head or a pinch or two in tactical places. Michelle, or as Fia called her, Michael, was of lithe built. She was slightly taller than Fia, who was bulkier and while MJ (again a pet name given by Fia) could be described as a nimble female ninja assassin, Fiona was more of an Amazon in build. Where MJ was subtle, Fia was brass and obnoxious. Where MJ would go unnoticed, Fia would revel in the attention. They were two very different beings, almost alien to each other in behavior. And yet they complimented each other well.

Among the closest circle of friends that Fia had, her most prominent group of companions were MJ, Hatorri and Leopold. During summers they were nearly inseparable. Even though Fia claimed Leopold to be her Rival and Nemesis, the two of them were close friends and they shared a rarely seen understanding and companionship. Both were prodigies and both of them had great plans for their future and for the world. Leopold was a tall and handsome boy with straight auburn hair that fell into his light brown eyes. He was a calm and cool person, whose mere presence demanded respect and intimidated the 'lesser beings' of the high school biome. But in spite of that cool façade he was a caring and noble person. Where his words were lacking (and he was quite silver-tongued) it was his actions that proved his greater traits.

When Fiona had entered puberty she had become an even more of a wild card. She had been kicked out of a privileged high school due to her domineering attitude. While her grades had been top notch, she had been an ever difficult and hated thorn at the side of the teacher body. But as a sign of kinship and chivalry, her eternal rival had followed her out of that same private high school for the privileged and gifted. It was that point when their friendship truly began.

Last, but not least in this introduction, was Hatorri Johnson. The Japanese looking awesome older cousin from America. He was the kind of guy you cannot help yourself but like. He was open minded, friendly, funny, slightly childish but in tempered amounts, fitting a young man his age. He was the big brother figure that any person would want to have. His facial features were prominently Asian. Dark eyes, pale Asian complexion and jet black spiky hair. But he had gotten the tall and broad part from the Johnson line. He was well-toned and always had a smile on his face. He was the dream son many women wanted to have while pregnant and dreaming about their future children. He was only 18, almost 19, and he had a long list of wistful women of all ages showering him with their attention.

This small platoon of worldly characters was waiting outside Fia's hospital room as she was signed out some three days later. They had been armed with flowers, presents, balloons, and in Leopold's case- Fia's lap top **The Bible.** It had been an almost tearing even for the hospital staff as they all departed to Fia's maternal Grandparents' house. Those were tears of joy that the horrible pest was finally leaving, mind you.

After a short car drive towards their destination there had been a party. Most of the relatives had left, leaving only Jubilation's parents, J.J. Jr., Fia and her friends in the house. The atmosphere was nice and calm, but overbearing for the blonde. She was under 24 hour surveillance by her friends, her mother and even the HAG herself, her overbearingly snobbish grandmother. That old woman was trying to put 'the fear of God' into her at least every 20 minutes. Don't put your feet on the cushions, wear slippers when you walk around the house, don't slouch when you sit, DO NOT USE swearwords in this household, YOUNG LADY! The list of reprimands was as long as her vigil was short. Jubilation had the notion of replacing her mother with people of more appropriate disposition when dealing with her daughter.

It was nice, being looked after. Fia got to laze about all day long in her PJs, with a pair of cute pink socks with ruffles and her initials on them. She also wore a cute pink night hat on her head that had been knitted by the HAG to cover the shaved spot where her stitches were. She wore either the hat (mostly to appease the she-demon) or a simple scarf.

One morning she just sat there, freshly woken up after a long night's sleep, staring at her reflection, looking at the stitches. Her face was mostly expressionless, safe for the slight crease of her pale eyebrows. It would be soon enough when she had to decide on a hair-do. It would be at least 6 months before she could walk around freely without some form of hiding contraption on her head. Hell, even wigs were a good choice at this point. On the bright side, she could go to school with as different and outrageous hair-do's as she could come up with, without any consequences to her newly growing hair. She could just see it now! Bright bubble gum pink twin ponytails! Rainbow deadlocks! The possibilities were endless.

'Sweetie, are you alright?'

Her mother's voice brought her out of her reverie. That question had been asked so many times during the last week that she was starting to feel peeved every time someone repeated it. Jubilation was looking at the checkered red scarf she was holding in her hands. She knew that look. And she died little bit inside, knowing that her mother was thinking so lowly of her as to…

'I am not contemplating suicide, mum. It's hair. It'll grow back. I was just wondering about what hair style I'll have, that is all.' Fia smiled, pushing aside any negative thoughts. They really should stop looking at her like that. She'll start hitting people. No, really. She will.

'You've always been strong, like your father. That's what I liked about him when we first met, you know.'

'Mom, seriously, don't get dramatic on me. It's kay. Everything's fine. The dream team is all together now and we are still rocking and everything, you know? And I even got to see Uncle Jasper! I haven't seen his dread locks in years!'

That one brought her mother out of her sappy mood. She despised Jasper's dreadlocks as nearly as J.J. Sr. himself. It was the ultimate ruination of beautiful deep chestnut dark brown silky hair.

'Fia, if you-'

'No dreadlocks, I know mum. I was thinking of a Rainbow Dreadlocked wig, actually…'

'Fia!'

Indeed, things would be back to normal sooner than anticipated. But that statement would hold only if the Household would survive the one too many confrontations between unruly granddaughter and the Ha- I mean the ever-vigilant Grandmother.

A month later, back in her usual abode in Paris, Fia's stitches had finally been removed. Her hair was boyishly short and spiky bit still blonde. It looked quite refreshing on her merry, wild face and even gave her an air of triumphant trickery about her. The only part that she did not like was how light her head felt without her long wavy blond locks of hair.

In this very long month, she had reaffirmed her belief that love and like were two very different things, and she felt even a slight guilt that she did not actually feel attached to her parents as a daughter should. Those were tentative notions, one that she did not share even with her closer circle of friends, the dream team, as they called them. She didn't need to tell them. Leopold was sharp and observant as ever, Hatorri was always supportive of her and MJ was the voice of reason in days in which she was starting to feel surreal, surrounded by a strange and hostile world that did not understand her need to contribute to _the cause._ Because even after the end of all days, it was only _the Cause _that would matter. It was the one truth that she stood up for. Her very own personal truth. _Carpe Diem_. It was why she was rivals with Leopold and why she did what she did. Because she felt that if she did not do something, she would disappear. She did not fear death. She did not fear almost anything in fact, to the point of self-destruction at times. It was all for that _cause._

_Carpe Diem._

Live for the moment. Live your life to the fullest. Everything was subject to change, even the all-powerful force of nature- time. In the grand scheme of things, she was insignificant, and so was everybody else on this planet and this solar system. Even their galaxy was probably marginally insignificant when compared to the vastness of the universe. Hell, even the universe was insignificant in comparison to the multiverse and so on. In the grand scheme of things, she was nothing and anything she would do would amount to nothing. Whether that was scientific, objective, gospel truth, or just a delusional whisper born from her not so sane and megalomaniacal mind - it did not matter. She wanted to leave her mark on history. At least on this planet or solar system. She wanted to do something that would have vastly-encompassing effects. She wanted to change the world, for better or for worse, but damn! She wanted to leave her mark to the generations that would come after her.

That was her greatest desire.

But that was not _the cause_.

The Cause, as she called it, was probably an even more abstract idea born from the depths of her mind. The easiest and most sane way to interpret it was _Balance Through Chaos. Order through Chaos._

_De Chao Ordo. Ordo ab Chao. _No matter how you said it, it meant the same. Nature was an equilibrium of all kinds of states of chaos. It was like an enormous clockwork. When one piece moved, so did the rest. It was an interesting way to view the world – like an intricate clockwork, when it was more of a web of intrigues, in fact. _Omnia Mutantur. _Everything changes. _Tempora Mutantur._ Time Changes. _Omnia Mutantur, Nihil Interit. _Everything changes, nothing perishes. Perhaps there was truth in that. If nothing kept its state the same, if everything was different that the moment before. There was hope then. She, the insignificant life form, from the insignificant little blue planet. Maybe someday, something that she had done or would do, would affect the whole world and the whole universe. For good or bad, she would leave her mark. After all, _non bonus vel manus est, nisil consequat. _There is no good or evil, only consequence.

She knew she had sociopathic tendencies. She was more aware of things than people gave her credit for. In fact, she knew that she had two ways of thinking. Her way of thinking and the observer's way of thinking. When she was thinking things through in her own point of view, she could easily spot most of the benefits from whatever situation had arisen. When going through a certain situation through the eyes of an observer, she could make a full account of both positive and negative outcomes. She could see the consequences. That second way of thinking was often a little irritating voice (proverbial - she wasn't that insane yet) in the depths of her psyche that was more often than not annoying her. But she had learned early on in life that paying attention where most people would ignore was a valuable trait.

They say that when a butterfly flaps its wings, a hurricane rages on the other side of the world. That saying was very accurate, not only when involving time-travelling paraphernalia. Just the other day Fia had observed how from the mere presence of a single crumb on an old lady's pale pink wig an entire plethora of things happened, ending in a most spectacular (if not really serious) car crash. Her mother always went down the stairs, right foot first. Her father was ambidextrous, but he preferred to write on piece of paper with his right hand, and on a whiteboard with his left hand. MJ tended to slightly pull up her upper lip in a miniscule, almost invisible snarl when she was annoyed or otherwise affronted by something foul. Those kind of small details were usually invisible. Facial mimics were something extremely personal to every single being. No two reactions were ever alike. Being able to read them better made manipulating people a tad bit easier. A small pout here, an obnoxious eye roll there, being an excited bouncy ball of cheerfulness in general. Even if the last one was genuine most of the time, it made people think she was less a prodigy and more of a ditzy blonde.

It was pure and simple. And it was called deception. It was also part of her double type of thinking. She usually consulted herself with the rational types of thoughts produced by her inner observer. Somehow her plans always turned out immensely better when she used that kind of train of thought. But she wasn't the only one. Leopold was a fellow prodigy of the 21st century. Unlike her, he lacked the outlandish outset of a mad scientist. Instead, he was cool, calm and collected. He was to the point and his sharp observation skills were not wasted on anything he deemed useless. The two of them were master manipulators.

But in the end, as it was with all things, it all went down to choice. Fia chose to use that skill to make her day to day life a tad bit easier. Easier as in 'smuggle something illegal or with shifty moral value without getting reprimanded that much'. Leopold, on the other hand, knew exactly how to apply himself. He did not waste his time with experiments. He merely busied himself with whatever school work he had and what was left of his time, which was a lot, he concentrated on politics, economy and world finances. He was also a history buff and always knew something about a region's background. But just like Fia, he wanted to leave his mark on the world. He wanted to be a powerful political figure, if not the most powerful man on the Earth, politics or money wise. It was a worthy goal for his brains. And it was beneficial to humanity.

In a way, the two of them balanced each other out. Indeed, Fia was his rival. But she was also one of his precious people. Despite how childish she seemed at times, he knew that she possessed an intellect greater, if not equal to his own. He knew how her mind worked. It was nice to have someone who understood you the way she understood him. But that connection ran both ways.

'Fiona, we need to talk' he had said a few days after she was signed out of the hospital.

'Sure, what is it?' she always had that happy smile on her face, no matter her state of being- whether she was truly happy and confident, or trying to cover up some sort of insecurity. He wagered it was some sort of defense mechanism.

'The next time you decide to cause mayhem, at least make sure you are at a safe distance.'

'Leo-'

'I wasn't finished. _When _exactly was the last time you've been in a hospital by someone else's doing?'

She remained silent.

'Exactly. You nearly died, Fia, even if you are too stubborn or prideful to acknowledge it. I don't want to lose you, nor do MJ and Hatorri, but they just don't want to cause you any grief at the moment. I on the other hand know what is going through that head of yours. I know I cannot talk you out of your little…experiments… but at least promise me you won't go in harm's way intentionally or not.'

'You know I cannot do that, Leo. Progress must be made for the sake of progress._ Progressio gratia progressio, _amice bone meus'

Leo shook his head.

'Fia, what you did was pure, wanton destruction with little regard to anything scientific unless you count whatever household objects you used to do all of that in the first place. What did you expect to gain from it?' he asked her earnestly, but again, she remained silent. He sighed.' I just care about you, Fiona. I don't want to see you crippled for the rest of your life because of unhealthy indulgences.'

'I used baking soda, freshly squeezed lemon juice, several balloons, and three cheap wristwatches.'

'What?'

'That's what I used.'

'But that's hardly enough to-'

'Apparently a boiler blew up.'

'You didn't blow it up?'

'People always lie. And apparently someone lied about the state of that rusty old boiler. That's all there is to it. Shit happens. _Stercus accidit, amice bone meus.'_

'That is precisely why I want you to be careful. You always go off and do something dangerous. The world around us is hardly that predictable. There is always something bound to happen. Be safe. That is all I ask. At least try, for my sake.'

'I will try. As I said. I cannot promise you anything, but try… I can do that.'

The summer would soon be over. And despite everything that had happened, and despite having to rely on caps for a while, it turned out quite all right. Fia looked at Hatorri for one final time. He was going back home in America today. MJ would go back home to England a few days later. Only Leopold and herself would remain here during the general part of the school year. She felt sad, but at the same time happy that there were people who genuinely cared for her. And did not reprimand her. And then, there was Leopold, who would always be there for her. She felt loved and cherished, and that made her forget, even if only for a while, her darker notions. Maybe this school year would be different. Maybe, in this final year, she would finally make a difference. Either way, for a first time in many years, she was looking forward to the first of September.


End file.
